


Bones

by stevergxrs



Series: Bones (A Marvel AU) [1]
Category: Marvel AU - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Mentions of Dead Body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevergxrs/pseuds/stevergxrs
Summary: You are a Forensic Anthropologist working for the Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C. when you and your team are recruited by the FBI to aid one of their top field agents, Special Agent Steve Rogers.





	1. The Girl in the Pond - Part. I

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: So this is my first Marvel AU series and I'm quite nervous on how this is going to turn out. This series is going to be based off the TV show Bones and since the show is twelve seasons long, I'm just going to base the series on some of my favorite episodes including the series finale. I just hope that I do it justice. I wanna thank @mrs-squirrel-chester for convincing me into writing this and for not only being as awesome beta but because she also made this kick-ass edit below.

 

“Come on. Come on,” Wanda muttered to herself as she raced through Ronald Reagan National Airport, making her way through the large crowd of people before skidding to a stop at the arrivals board. **  
**

 

“I’m late.” She let out a breath, looking up at the board and noticed that it was beginning to malfunction. “This board is broken,” she  said to a group of people who were also staring up at the board. “Uh? Did anyone meet the Uh, did anybody meet the flight from Guatemala? Aviateca airlines?” she questioned, her Sokovian accent thick. “Yeah, right. I’m late,” she muttered to herself again as everyone shook their heads no.

 

Turning on her heel, she walked over to the customer service desk where a young, well dressed man was standing there, on the phone.

 

“Excuse me?” Wanda asked. “Uh, you have a glitch on your arrivals board.”

 

The customer service agent ignored her as he continued to talk on the phone.

 

“Hello! Sir, excuse me.” She tried to grab the man’s attention again, only to be met by him holding up his index finger at her in annoyance.

 

Irritated and angry, she ripped open her pink button-up blouse revealing a pale pink, lacy bustier. The man turned around and dropped his phone on his desk with a thud, his jaw following as his dark eyes hungrily roamed over her curves.

 

“How  can I help you?” the newly-interested agent asked.

 

“Yeah. Hi. The flight from Guatemala?” Wanda smirked raising an eyebrow.

* * *

 

“Please tell me you tried ‘excuse me’ first,” you said to Wanda, noticing her state of dress.

“Sweeeeetie. Yes, I did.” Wanda giggled as she rushed toward you and pulled you into a tight hug. “Welcome home. Are you exhausted? Was Guatemala awful? Was it horribly backward?” the small brunette bombarded you with questions, obviously trying to change the subject.

 

“And yet, I was never reduced to flashing my boobs for information,” you quickly drove back the topic of her flashing the customer service agent.

 

You pulled away and grabbed your travel bag as Wanda insisted she carry your suitcase. “Flash them for any fun reasons?” She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

 

You couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Ah come on,”  you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was literally neck deep in a mass grave, not romantic.”

 

“You know, Y/N,” Wanda let out a sigh. “Diving in a pit of cadavers is no way to handle a messy break up.”

 

You let out a dry laugh. “Wanda, nothing Julian and I ever did was messy.”

 

She laughed cutely. “Then you were not doing the right things.”

 

Feeling a presence that wasn’t there before, you dropped the large bag and turned on your heel, finding a tall man with dark hair and dressed in a suit. Whoever he was, looked extremely guilty, as if he had just been caught dipping his hand into the cookie jar.

 

“Sir, is there any particular reason on why you’re following my friend and I?” you asked, cocking up an eyebrow.

 

The man said nothing. Instead,he reached over and grabbed your elbow painfully.

 

“Ow,” you cried out. “What the hell are you doing?!”

 

“Attack!” Wanda cried out. “Security! Hello!?! Who runs this airport?”

 

You managed to quickly escape the man’s grasp and swung your left fist, connecting with the man’s chest. You followed up with a kick to the gut, which dropped him to his knees as Wanda set about attacking the man with his purse.

 

“Kick his ass sweetie!” She shouted at you.

 

You grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back when three airport security officers rushed over, two of them grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

 

You shouted as you struggled to break free from their grasp. “Step away from him,” one of the officers ordered.

 

“He attacked me!” You exclaimed, then took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright I’m calm,” you said as the guards finally let you go, but they still pointed their guns at you and Wanda.

 

“I’m Homeland Security!” The man shouted as he got up from the floor.

 

“Oh, little misunderstanding here,” Wanda said with her hands up in the air as a sign of surrender.

 

You raised your hands up as well. “You can put away your guns.”

 

The Homeland Security agent got angry as the officers lowered her weapon. “What is she in charge now?” He chastised as he adjusted his tie. “No. I’ll tell you when you can lower your weapons.” Then, he turned towards you. “Hand over the bag,” he  growled.

 

You rolled your eyes.”, “Is that what this is about?” You walked over to where your bag laid and picked it up, handing it over to the agent. “Here.”

He took the bag in his hands and opened the flap, dropping it and jumping back in surprise as a human skull fell out of her bag. He looked up at you in fear and you couldn’t keep from smirking. “Boo.”

* * *

 

You had been sitting in an interrogation room for almost two hours, running your fingers through your hair in frustration, already feeling the jet lag. “How many times do I need to explain this to you?” You asked, clearly annoyed.

 

“My name is Dr. Y/N L/N. I’ve been in Guatemala for the past two months identifying victims of genocide, including him.”  You pointed at the skull that was resting on the table.

 

“You know Miss L/N,” the still unidentified agent began.

 

You cut him off, correcting his mistake, “Dr. L/N.”

 

He rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever. Most people in this situation, what they do is, they sweat it.”

 

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Really? Guatemala, genocide?” You crossed your arms and laughed at the agent. “How scary are you after that?” You could tell that you were getting on his nerves, so you continued to push his buttons.

 

Sensing what you were doing. “You know who doesn’t sweat it?” he asked, leaning over the table. “Sociopaths.”

 

“Listen, pal,” you started, cocking your head to the side. “You aren’t the first person to call me that. So let’s get this straight. I. Am not a sociopath. I’m an anthropologist at the Smithsonian.”

 

“Who works for the FBI.” The agent added., “Which I’d maybe believe if you had an ID that did more than allowed you access to the cafeteria.”

 

He pulled out a small book from his coat pocket and opened it. “You were illegally transporting human remains ma’am, and you assaulted a Homeland Security agent.” He announced, “Do you know how serious these charges are?”

 

“Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends but, next time you should identify yourself before attacking me,” you snarked back as you grabbed your bag and swung it over your shoulder. Turning around, you collided with a solid force that sent you stumbling back into the chair.

 

Looking up, you realized who it was that you bumped into and immediately, you lost your smug smile. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

“FBI. Special Agent Steve Rogers, Major Crime Investigation, D.C.” He flashed his FBI badge at the Homeland Security Agent. “Bones identifies bodies for us.” He motioned over to you with his head.

 

“Don’t call me Bones.” You rolled your eyes at Agent Rogers.

 

After a long uncomfortable silence between the three, the Homeland Security agent sighed, “Fine. She’s all yours.”

 

“Great. Let’s grab your skull and let’s get the hell out of here,” Steve said with a smile as he grabbed your bag.

 

“What! That’s it? She’s all yours? Why did you stop me?” You were confused by the agent’s sudden change of heart.

 

“Why does it matter?” Steve questioned you. “You’re free to go. Let’s go!”

 

You quickly put two and two together. “You son of a bitch! You set me up!” you growled, grabbed the skull from the table, and snatched your bag out of Steve’s hand, stalking passed him. “Come on.”

* * *

 

“Is that the best you can do?” You huffed, sitting the in the passenger seat of Steve’s SUV.  

 

“What?” He asked, not really looking at you.

 

“You know exactly what,” you snarked at him. “Getting Homeland Security to snatch me up so that you can stage a fake rescue.”

 

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. “Well, at least I picked you up at the airport huh?” He gave you a beaming smile which only seemed to annoy you even more, so you rolled your eyes at him, making his smile drop.

 

“Hey, come on. I went through the appropriate channels, but your assistant there, he stonewalled me!” Steve admitted, his foot slowly pushing down on the gas pedal as the traffic light turned green.

 

“Yeah, well after the last case, I told Peter to never, ever to put you through.” You shrugged. “He’s a good assistant. You can let me out anywhere along here.” You pointed out the window.

 

“Alright, listen,” Steve replied, clearly ignoring your request. “A decomposed corpse was found this morning at Arlington National Cemetery down.”

 

“Arlington National Cemetery is full of decomposed corpses,” you replied, the sarcastic shit that you were. “It’s… a cemetery.”

 

Steve let out a huff, starting to get irritated at your attitude. “Yeah, but this one is your type of corpse. It wasn’t in a casket,” He answered gruffly.

 

Now you were starting to get pissed. “If you drive one more block, I’m screaming 'kidnap’ out the window,” you warned the baby blue-eyed agent.

 

“Listen Y/L/N, I’m trying to mend bridges here,” Steve argued back.

 

“Pull over!” You lost your cool and shouted at Steve.

 

“Alright!” He shouted back at you and cut the wheel, pulling the SUV up on the curb, the tires squealing in protest.

 

Quickly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled on the door handle, heaved the door open, and hopped out of the car. “I’m going home,” you growled, walking in the opposite direction, but Steve threw himself in the way and stopped you,

 

“Could we… Look, could we just skip this part?” He aggressively whispered, not trying to cause a scene for the people walking by.

 

“You’re very condescending, you know that Rogers?” You insisted, pushing past him.

 

He let out a sarcastic laugh.”Oh that’s just rich, coming from the one who’s got to mention she’s got a doctorate, oh, I don’t know, every five minutes,” he shot back at you.

 

“Well, that’s because I do. Thank you for stating that.” You smirked wickedly, as if he were falling into some kind of trap you had laid out.

 

“Yeah, well you know what? I’m the one with the badge and the gun huh.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You know, you’re not the only forensic anthropologist in town, doll.”

 

You laughed in his face. “Yes I am. The next nearest is in Montreal.  _Parlez-vous francais?”_

 

Frustrated, Steve roughly scraped a hand over his face. “What’s it going to take?”

 

You stopped in your tracks and turned around, facing him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

 

He scratched his thick beard and sighed. “What’s it going to take for you to be a part of this case?” Steve posed, hating himself for begging.

 

“Full participation in the case’” you answered quickly.

 

“Fine,” he agreed.

 

“Not just lab work, everything,” you added.

 

“Deal.” He stuck his right hand out.

 

You instantly grabbed it with your left hand and shook it. “It’s like we’re Scully and Mulder,” you said with a smile.

 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know what that means.”

 

“Oh my God!” You yelled at him, disbelief thick on your tongue. “You don’t know who Sully and Mulder are? X-Files?!”

 

He shook his head no and walked over to the car, pulling himself into the large SUV. “Whatever, just get back in the car, Bones,” he grumbled, slamming the driver’s door shut.

 

You jogged back to the car and got in the passenger’s side, quickly closing the door behind you. You shot him a wink, making him blush,  “Whatever you say Cap!”

* * *


	2. The Girl in the Pond Part. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a forensic anthropologist working for the Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C. when you and your team get recruited by the FBI to aid one of their top field agents, Special Agent Steve Rogers. Together, along with your colleagues/friends you put faces on the voiceless and throw the bad guys where they belong.

 

“What’s the context of the find?” you asked Agent Rogers as you both walked down the grassy hill, reading the names on the rows of white marble headstones.   
  
“Routine landscaping,” Steve replied, looking down at his notepad. “Dropped a load in the local pond, one of the workmen thought he saw something.”   
  
You recognized the emblem on the side of the black windowless van that was parked a few yards away from the pond; it was the Smithsonian Medico-Legal Lab emblem. The passenger door opened and a young man hopped out; duffle bag in one hand and a camera in the other.

Recognizing him immediately, you waved him over. “Hi Peter.”

Peter greeted you with a hug, ““This eco-warrior look works for you. Very action oriented.”

“Thanks.” you replied, looking down at your outfit. “Agent Rogers, you remember my assistant Peter Parker?”

“Of course,” Agent Rogers answered, sticking out his right hand. “Great to see you again kid.”

“How was Guatemala? Dig up lots of massacred victims? Learn a thing or two about machete strikes?” Peter asked you, completely ignoring Steve, who made a face at Peter’s rude gesture.

You cleared your throat and Peter quickly realized his mistake. “Sorry,” he muttered, taking Agent Rogers’ hand to give it a firm shake. “Good to see you again Agent.”  

“Hey Pete, I need water samples and temperature readings from the pond,” you ordered.

“Right away doc.”  He spun on his heel, quickly turning the other way, leaving you alone with Agent Rogers.

“Kid’s got no sense of discretion. Typical Squint…” Steve said, as they reached the river bank.

“Squint?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah you know, when cops get stuck, we bring in people like you. You know? Squints. You know, you squint at things,” Steve explained with a shit-eating grin. “Like this,” he demonstrated for you.

“Oh, you mean people with very high IQ’s and basic reasoning skills?” You gave him a smart-ass answer.

His smile dropped, giving you a look as if he had just tucked his tail between his legs. “Yeah.”

 

“So what exactly am I supposed to be squinting at?” you asked, staring at a monitor while standing in the middle of a small boat, along with Agent Rogers, in the middle of the pond.

Steve dropped a camera attached to a cable into the pond. “Oh, you know, it’s like pornography,” Steve said as he continued to lower the camera. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Like you would know,” you snarked, shooting your partner a wink.

His cheeks flushed pink. “Shut up Bones.”

You chuckled to yourself then turned your head to look back at the screen where you saw what looked to be a skeleton wrapped around in wire.

“Oh yeah, this is a crime scene,” you called out to Steve. “Call in the divers and bring the body up to land,” you ordered.

* * *

After thirty minutes of locating the body and a quick change, you were finally able to examine the remains while Peter leaned over to snap some photos. Kneeling down you pulled on some rubber gloves, grabbed a tool from your bag, and started removing some of the algae and wire that was attached.

“Remains are wrapped in four-milled, flat poly-construction sheeting,” you announced to Peter, who then crouched down on the opposite side of you.

“PVC coated chicken wire,” Peter responded as he helped you pull it away from the body.

“It’s weighted.” you added, looking up at Peter. “That’s why the body didn’t surface during decomposition.” There was a small bone fragment, which you held up to the magnifying glass. “The skeleton is complete but the skull is in fragments.”

Suddenly you felt Steve’s presence behind you. “What can you tell me?”

“Not much,” you answered, not looking at him. “She was a young woman, probably between 18 and 22, approximately 5'3", race unknown, delicate features.”

“That’s all?” He asked in disbelief, crouching down next to you.

“Well, she was a tennis player,” you responded coolly.

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “How do you get a tennis player out of… well that?” he asked, referring to the muck that covered the remains.

Peter jumped in with an answer, “Epiphyses fusion gives age.” He pointed at one of the legs. “Pelvic bone shape gives sex of the victim.”

“Bursitis in the shoulder,” you pointed at the left arm. “Somebody this young, must be an athletic injury.”

“Okay?” Steve asked still not getting what you and Peter were talking about. “When did she die?”

“Ehhh…” both you and Peter replied, still not looking at the agent.

“Ehhh?” he mocked. “What do you mean Eh?”

Peter rolled his eyes, then got up, facing Agent Rogers. “It means wait until our bug and slime guy takes a look,” he said.

“Collect silt, 3 meters radius, to a depth of 10 cm,” you ordered Peter to do as you pulled the zipper on your baggy bodysuit and yanked it down, revealing your white long sleeve t-shirt and dark wash jeans. “Your FBI forensics team can take the plastic and the chicken wire, we’ll take the rest.”

* * *

Walking up the stairs, heading into your office, you noticed your boss, Natasha Romanoff, leaving your office.

“Dr. Romanoff!” you shouted as you jogged over to the petite redhead in front of you.

“Dr. Y/L/N? How was Guatemala?” she asked, not that she cared. She was trying to divert the situation.

“You know, Dr. Romanoff, I wish you wouldn’t just give me to the FBI,” you said as you walked along with her, not letting her change the subject.

“As a federally funded institution,” Natasha started as you both went down the stairs. “The Smithsonian must seize every opportunity to prove our worth to our friends in Congress. Which means, I loan you out as I see fit, especially to federal agencies.”

You rolled your eyes at your boss. “'Loan out’ implies property Dr. Romanoff,” you responded. “And the FBI will never respect me as property.”

“I do not view you as property Dr. Y/L/N,” Natasha stopped you. “You are one of the Smithsonian’s most valuable assets.”

“An asset is, by definition, property.” The two of you heard Peter say from behind.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “What’s the rule Mr. Parker?”

“You only converse with PhD’s,” Peter deadpanned. “You realize I am half way through two Doctorates? Two halves make a whole, so mathematically speaking…”

Natasha turned around and cut off Peter, “Go polish a bone Mr. Parker!”

* * *

“Hey Stark, find anything good on our body here?” You asked, swiping your ID card against the lock near the lab’s entrance.

After pulling a lab coat over your shoulders, you grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and joined your colleague Tony.

“The pond is not only warm and teeming with microbes, which accelerated decomposition, but it houses black carp and koi which fed on the body,” he answered while still looking over the body.

Walking up the steps into the lab, Wanda almost choked on the smell of rotting flesh. “Oh god!  Can I, as the only normal person in this room, say, Ew?”

“Can you determine how long ago the victim died?” you inquired.

“Well, given by three larval stages of trichoptera, chironimidae…” Tony replied before you cut him off.

“In English, Stark.”

Tony sighed, all enthusiasm gone. “The body was in the pond one winter and two summers.”

“So spring before last,” you easily calculated, muttering to yourself as you turned back and looked at the monitor.

“You really think I’m Robert?” Tony asked out of the blue after a long pause.

“What?” you looked at Wanda in confusion.

“The book, sweetie,” Wanda answered.

You let out a dry chuckle and shook your head. “No, No, No. You’re not in the book.”

“Well sure he is! We all are…” Peter cut in.

“No, none of you are in the book. Those are fictitious characters based on….”

“I found some small bone fragments in the silt,” Tony interrupted you mid sentence, motioning everyone to take a look at the monitor as he moved the magnifying glass over to the victim’s ribcage.

“Dr. Stark, can you determine the kind of bones found in the silt?” you asked.

“Given the size of the bone fragments, I’d say Rana Temporaria,” Tony answered.

“So frog bones?”

He nodded. “Also found some tiny gold links, those from a fine chain…”

“Just to clarify..” Peter announced. “I’m not a virgin. Nowhere near in fact.”

Tony snorted, trying to contain his laughter to which Wanda elbowed him in the arm.

“Oh my god, can you guys just ignore the fucking book and focus on your jobs?” you shouted exasperatedly.

“Who you captured perfectly, is Rogers. Buttoned down, but buckets of sexual confidence which, uhhh, I for one would love to tap.” Wanda let out a little smirk which made you roll your eyes at her.

“Wand, you’re not helping,” you muttered.

“Oh come on!” She walked over, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Like you wouldn’t tap that?” She giggled, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“It’s not polite to discuss ‘ass tapping’ in front of a soaker,” Peter breathed in irritation.

“And yet, you wanted to announce to everyone that you’re not a virgin,” Tony argued back.

“Okay everyone shut up and ignore the book!” you yelled at your colleagues. “Peter, remove the remaining tissue, I’ll debreed the skull fragments myself, reassemble it so Wanda can put a face on our victim. And Stark, can you analyze the paper found in the victim’s hand?”

“Good. I prefer holographs, they don’t stink,” Wanda answered, referring to the decomposing body.

“Sure thing, Dr. Y/L/N,” Both Tony and Peter said as the three headed out of the lab, before you pulled Peter back by the shoulder.

“Listen Pete, I don’t like those terms for human remains, ya know; soaker, crispy critter stuff like that?” You whispered.

He hung his head low as if he was being scolded, his hands fidgeting with his royal blue lab coat.” Sorry, Dr. Y/N,” he replied.

“Hey no, I’m not mad at you Peter.” You let out a sigh. “I’m just saying that when we’re in the middle of an investigation, it’s better to just say victim and not weird nicknames alright?” You patted his back and asked, “Now go clean the bones alright?”

He let out a weak smile. “Sure thing doc.”

* * *

“So,” Steve’s superior, Director Nick Fury pondered as he sat at his desk across from Steve. “You guaranteed a squint a field role in an active murder investigation, Agent Rogers. Is that correct?”

Steve nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Huh, that’s funny,” the director replied, scratching his chin. “I thought you said she wouldn’t work with you anymore?”

Steve shifted in his seat before answering, “Well, the last case we worked she provided a description of the murder weapon and the murderer, but I didn’t give her much credence.”

“And why is that?” Director Fury asked.

“Because she did it by looking at the victim’s autopsy x-rays,” Steve answered.

The director snorted at Steve’s comment. “Well I wouldn’t give it much credence either.”

“Turns out she was right on both,” Steve answered. “Plus the pond victim, Y/F/N gave me the victim’s age, sex, and favorite sport,” he praised with confidence.

The director chuckled, leaning closer to Steve.“Which is?”

“Tennis.”

Fury leaned back in awe. “She’s good.”

“Oh, she’s amazing,” Steve answered proudly.  “If the only way I can get her back to my side is to bring her out in the field, I’m willing to let her.”

The room fell quiet. Director Fury looked pensive for a moment, debating on whether or not he should grant permission as Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wringing his hands together due to nerves.

“Fine.” Director Fury finally announced. “You can take her out in the field, but ultimately, she is your responsibility.”

Steve practically leapt from his chair, took a hold of the director’s hand, and shook it. “Thank you sir.”

* * *

Hearing a strange noise in your house, you scrambled out of your bed and crouched underneath, pulling out an aluminum bat. You were slowly tip-toeing down the hallway when suddenly, a dark figure walked through the bead curtains. Within the blink of an eye, you swung your bat hard, connecting with glass and smashing it, sending the person tumbling down on the floor amidst a sea of glass shards.

You stood over and almost swung when suddenly you heard a familiar voice stopping you, “Y/N, wait!”

“Julian?” You cried, surprised to find your ex-boyfriend in your house. You extended your right arm and he took it, lifting himself up off the floor.

“It’s not rational for you to choose the first day I’m back to reclaim your television.” You sighed as you took a seat on your lounge chair.

Julian sat down on the chair opposite you. “While you were away, I thought a lot about why we broke up,” he replied nervously.

“We fought all the time and don’t like each other anymore,” you answered bluntly.

“We fought because you are emotionally distant and cold,” Julian retorted as he got up from his chair and sauntered over to your chair, sitting dangerously close to you. “But sexually speaking, I think you’ll agree tha-”

You immediately cut him off, “You didn’t come for your TV, you timed this for a booty call!” You pushed him off the couch with a pissed off groan. “You’re a fuckin’ pig you know that.”

“Oh come on!” Julian got up and ran behind you. “Your intimacy issues are probably due to being orphaned so young.”

“Ughh… I hate psychology and you’re just horny.” You rolled your eyes painfully hard at your ex.

“Y/N, honey, do you really want to spend the rest of your life alone?” he asked, a shit-eating smirk plastered across his face.

However, it didn’t last long as you slapped him hard across the cheek. “Get out Julian,” you growled as you pushed him out of the house.

Clutching the left side of his cheek, he asked, “So what, we split the cost of the TV?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, slamming the door his face and stomped back into the living room where you threw yourself back on the lounge chair with a soft thud. You grabbed a cushion and buried your face, screaming into it.

* * *

The next day, Wanda, Steve, and you gathered around at a squared table in Wanda’s office, along with Peter and Tony.

“Does Rogers know how this works?” you asked with a hint of sarcasm in your voice and Steve shot you a dirty look.

“This computer program, which Tony and I designed, patent pending, accepts a full array of digital input, processes it, and then projects it as a three dimensional holographic image,” Wanda said as she tapped away on her tablet. A holographic skeleton popped up a moment later. “I call it FRIDAY.”

“You get that?” you asked Steve sarcastically.

“Sure thing, doll,” he replied with a smirk. Being the smart ass he was, he added, “Even the patent pending part.”

“Get a room you two,” Wanda teased, to which both you and Steve rolled your eyes.

“Anywho… Y/L/N reassembled the skull and applied tissue markers,” Wanda said as she continued to tap on her tablet.

As Wanda added the markers to the skull, you explained to everyone in the room how you managed to pull it off, “Her skull was badly damaged, but racial indicators, cheekbone dimensions, nasal arch, occipital measurements suggest African American.”

“And…. We have our victim,” Wanda announced as a full upper body photograph appears in hologram form.

“Whoa…” Steve whispered as he put his hand through the hologram and wiggled his fingers. “Have to admit, that’s pretty cool.”

You slapped Steve’s hand away from the hologram. “Hey Wand, can you rerun the program substituting caucasian values?” you asked.

The image altered slightly as Wanda entered the information into her tablet. “Does she look familiar to anyone?” you asked everyone in the room.

Confused, Tony, Peter, Steve, and Wanda looked at each other, then shook their heads no.

“Split the difference, mixed race,” you told Wanda.

“Lenny Kravitz or Vanessa Williams?” she asked, head cocked to the side.

“Hmmm…” you thought for a moment before making a decision, “Vanessa Williams.”

Wanda added in more features and the image changed again. Steve was taken back by the final result. “Oh no,” he breathed, a hand resting on his hip.

“Anyone recognize her?” you asked the group once more.

“Not me,” Peter replied.

“Wait, is that who I think it is?” asked Wanda as she placed her tablet down on the table beside her.

“The girl who had the affair with the Senator?” Asked Tony.

“Her name is Cleo Louise Eller,” Steve said softly. “Only daughter to Ted and Sharon Eller. Last seen approximately 9pm, April 6, 2016 leaving the Cardio Deluxe Gym on K Street, she didn’t even make it to her car.”

You turned to Steve. “Pretty good memory,” you acknowledged.

“Yeah, well, it’s my job to find her,” he answered, not looking at you.

“Well, in that case, congratulations on your success.” Tony stuck his hand out for Steve to shake.

 

Steve shook his head in dismay, “This isn’t exactly the way I wanted it to end.” He turned on his heel and headed towards the door. He stopped and towards you and your group “I need this kept quiet.”

* * *


	3. The Girl in the Pond Part. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a forensic anthropologist working for the Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C. when you and your team get recruited by the FBI to aid one of their top field agents, Special Agent Steve Rogers. Together, along with your colleagues/friends you put faces on the voiceless and throw the bad guys where they belong.

 

“Rogers! Wait up!” You shouted, catching up to Steve who was walking across the institute’s lawn. The heels you were wearing were getting stuck to the dirt so you decided to kick them off, and jog over to Steve. 

 

“So what do you want to do first, confront the Senator?” you asked, walking alongside him once you caught up. 

 

He stopped in his tracks and turned to you, face grim. “Listen, Bones, I know…”

 

“Don’t call me Bones!” you interrupted him.

 

“Right,” he sighed. “I know we talked about you coming out in the field and all…”

 

“Seriously Rogers?!” You pushed him in anger. “You fucking bastard,” you spat. You couldn’t believe he lied to you. 

 

“Bones, listen to me!” Steve grabbed your hands to stop you from hitting his chest. “With a case this big, the director is going to create a special investigation. And if I get all my ducks in a row, then maybe, just maybe I could lead it,” he explained fully.

 

“Not sure what that means, but I think I could be a duck,” you replied.

 

“You’re not a duck, okay,” he blurted out in annoyance. “On this one we go by  the book. Cops on the street, Squints in the lab.”

 

“Oh yeah?” you asked, crossing your arms at him. “Well in that case, the Smithsonian will be issuing a press release identifying the girl in the pond,” was your simple reply.

 

“You do that and Fury will kill me!” he whisper-yelled at you. “What the hell are you trying to do?” **  
**

 

You looked into Steve’s baby blue eyes through your lashes. “Me? I thought it’d be clear to a top agent. I’m blackmailing you, doll,” you cooed while batting your eyelashes.

 

“Blackmail a Federal Agent?” Steve asked, still in disbelief as to what you were telling him.

 

“Oh yeah,” you replied with a sweet smile.

 

He folded his arms across his chest. “Well I don’t like it.”

 

“You’re not supposed to like it.” You let out a chuckle.

 

“Fine.” Steve let out a sigh in defeat. “You’re in.”

 

* * *

Sitting inside Director Fury’s office, both you and Steve explained that the body found in the pond was that of Cleo Ellers. **  
**

 

“Dr. Y/L/N…” Director Fury began to speak. “You’re certain it’s Cleo Eller.”

 

“The profile’s dead on,” you assured the director.  “ Age, race, height…”

[Originally posted by forassgard](https://tmblr.co/ZfE5-t1ETZ1P7)

“Plus the time line fits, I mean Cleo Eller did play tennis in college,” Steve jumped in.

 

“Hmm,” Director Fury said to himself, sitting pensively at his desk. “Talk to me about the Senator.”

 

“Cleo Eller, the victim, worked for Senator Bethlehem…” Steve began to say before you interrupted him.

 

“It was reported that they were involved sexually.”

 

Steve face palmed, then cleared his throat and shot you a look. “But we couldn’t confirm that.”

 

The director chuckled deeply. “Everyone knows that the senator was a hound.”

Director Fury, Steve, and you continued going through the list of suspects for about a half hour before coming up with the top three suspects.

 

“I’d say that the the main suspect would be Senator Bethlehem,” you announced to the two men.

 

“On what grounds?” Director Fury asked, confusion heavy on his brow.

 

“Well given that he was involved sexually with the victim, she threatened to go public with the affair and ruin his marriage,” you pointed out.

 

“I disagree,” Steve interjected, sliding to the edge of his seat. “It would have to be Oliver Laurier.”

 

“Oh?” You turned your head to your partner. “And why is that?”

 

“Because he was her stalker,” Steve answered confidently. “Maybe he caught her in a compromising position and thought enough was enough.”

 

“But what about the boyfriend, Ken Thompson?” Director Fury questioned.

 

“Thompson keeps Bethlehem’s calendar, no way the Senator has an affair that Thompson doesn’t know about. No sexual relationship, no motive,” was your blunt answer.  
  


The director nodded at you, then turned towards Rogers. “What’s your first move?”

 

“I’d like to inform the victim’s parents, sir,” your partner informed his boss.

 

“No,” Fury answered. “It’s better to keep this quiet. It’s what, two years? What’s another few days?”

 

Steve shook his head in defiance. “With all due respect sir, I’ve come to know the family pretty well, especially the Major, and two years is a hell of a long time in my book,” he went on to explain.

 

“I’ll have details of cause of death by this afternoon,” you jumped in, hoping that it would be enough to convince Fury.

 

“Then that’s where we’ll get started,” Steve said as you both got up from your chairs.

 

“Alright fine,” the director conceded before rising from his chair. “Find cause of death first, then inform the parents. Understood?”

 

You both nodded in agreement and replied in unison, “Yes sir.”

* * *

 

“You’re positive it’s our Cleo?” Major Eller asked as he and his wife sat across from Steve and you.

 

“We established 22 matching points of comparison…” you began to say before Steve interrupted.

 

“Yes. We’re certain.” He turned to you, giving a stern look.

 

Mr. Eller held his wife’s hand, comforting her. “Did he do it? The Senator. One military man to another?” He asked Steve in hopes of getting some information out of him.

 

“I’m sorry Major Eller, we can’t discuss the investigation in any way,” Agent Rogers replied solemnly. Major Eller nodded, understanding the situation he put Rogers in.

 

“Can you at least tell us if our daughter suffered?” Mrs. Eller spoke up, her voice tremulous from crying.

 

“Given the state of her skull…” you were interrupted by Steve again, who just shot you another dirty look.

 

“Cleo never saw it coming,” he lied expertly.

 

“Thank you,” Major Eller murmured, as if he already knew what happened, but didn’t want to upset his wife anymore than she already was.

 

As you looked around the living room of the Eller home, you noticed a portrait on one of the shelves. Taking a closer look at it, you saw Major Eller and his wife, smiling proudly at their daughter, who had tears of joy because she had graduated college. You also noticed the gold chain that Tony found on the body earlier.

 

“Mrs. Eller, can you tell us what Cleo wore around her neck?” you asked politely.

 

Mrs. Eller gave you a weak smile. “Her father’s Bronze Star.” She sniffed before continuing, “Ted received it in the first Gulf War, then he gave it to her for luck.” Her smile disappeared, recalling the memory, and started to break down, covering her face so that her guests wouldn’t see her like that.

* * *

 

“Those people deserved the truth,” you chastised your partner as you got into the passenger side of his SUV and slammed the door shut. **  
**

 

“Their daughter was murdered, they deserve the kindness of a lie,” Steve argued back, turning on the ignition to his car and taking off.

 

“There’s gonna be a report.”

 

“Which they won’t read because they don’t want to,” Steve ground out. “Especially because toward the end, Cleo and her parents weren’t even speaking.”

 

“They told you that?” you asked, taken back by your partner’s statement.

 

He chuckled. “You know, getting information out of live people is a lot different than getting information out of a pile of bones, you have to offer up something of yourself first.”

 

“What exactly did you do in the military?” you asked, confused by his statement.

 

Steve’s shoulders tightened at the question. With his jaw clenched, he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

“See? See what you did right there, Bones?” he gruffed, voice thick and shaky.  “You asked a personal question without offering anything personal in return and since I’m not a skeleton, you get zilch. Sorry.”

 

Now you were starting to get pissed off. “You didn’t have to keep cutting me off.”

 

“Well you come off as blunt and insensitive,” Steve blurted out at you.

 

“You know what, Rogers, bite me. I am not insensitive,” you growled, crossing your arms at him.

 

He let out a sly smile, knowing he was getting on your nerves. “You just keep telling yourself that, doll.”

* * *

“There are stab marks here and odd markings on the distal phalanges. Nothing I’ve seen before,” you spoke to Peter, pointing at the victim’s fingertips.  **  
**

 

“In a nutshell; anxious, depressed and nauseous,” you heard Tony say smugly as he joined both you and Peter in the lab.

 

“Take a sick day,” you plainly answered, not looking at Tony.

 

“What?” Tony asked in confusion. “Not me. Cleo Eller. Pupal casings show that she was on Lorazepam, Chlordiazepoxide, and Meclizine Hydrochloride,” he clarified.

 

You put the victim’s finger back down on the table. “The victim had nausea?” Tony nodded in agreement, a small smile beginning to form across his face.

 

“Do you still have those frog bone fragments?” you asked him, before he pulled the tray  from behind his back.

 

“Way ahead of you Dr. Y/L/N.” You moved the magnifying glass over the bones Tony provided and all three of you looked over at the monitor.

 

“Oh my god,” Peter gasped in horror, looking over at Tony who’s smile only grew bigger.

 

“Cleo Eller was pregnant,” you said aloud, walking closer to the monitor.

 

“Fetal remains….” was all that Peter could say.

 

“She was pregnant, but she wasn’t far along,” you explained to the boys, pointing at the different bones on the monitor. “See, Malleus, Incus, Stapes; these are fetal ear bones.”

 

“Do you want to try to get a DNA reading see if we can prove paternity?” Peter asked politely.

 

“You can try, let’s hope there’s enough genetic material to test,” you answered honestly. Peter nodded, took the tray of fetal bones off the table, and left the lab, leaving only you and Tony who had a face-splitting grin plastered on his face.

 

“What’s up with you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“The senator,” Tony replied. “He’s very smart. He gets an intern pregnant and then murders her when it threatens his career. Not only that, he has connections to get away with it.”

 

You rolled your eyes at him, but he did seem to have a point which annoyed you even more. “I hate it when you make paranoia plausible, it’s like sliding off a cliff.”

Tony laughed. “No way your FBI pal heads it up unless the dark powers in charge are convinced he knows where his political bread is buttered. Either way, this is where this investigation ends.”

* * *

 

Leaning on a swinging partition in the building, you thought about what Agent Rogers told you on the way back, You come off as blunt and insensitive.

 

“Want to get a drink?” Wanda walked up to you. “Non-topical application. Glug, glug, Woo hoo!”

 

When you didn’t give her an answer, she sighed, grabbed your elbow, and picked you up. “Come on Sweetie,” she urged.

 

“What if Rogers is right?” you asked Wanda as you both walked down the hallway, “What if I’m only good with bones and lousy with people?”

 

“People like you,” Wanda replied, hoping to cheer you up.

 

“I don’t care if men like me.” You rolled your eyes with a sigh.

 

“Okay.” She chuckled at your comment. “Interesting leap from people to men, but I’m sure it means nothing.”

 

“My most meaningful relationships are with dead people!” you blurted out to her.

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. “Who said that?” she asked.

 

“It doesn’t matter who,” you answered. Shaking your head, you sat down on one of the benches.  “But it’s true! I understand Cleo, and her bones are all I’ve ever seen. When she was seven, she broke her wrist probably falling off a bike and two weeks later, before the cast was even removed, she got right back on that bike and broke it all over again. And when she was being murdered, she fought back hard, even though she was so depressed she could hardly get up in the morning. She didn’t welcome death, Cleo wanted to live.”

 

“You want some advice?” Wanda asked, taking you by the hand.

 

“Glug, glug, woo hoo…” you gave her a sarcastic answer.

She giggled at your attempt to humor. “Offer up a little bit of yourself every once and awhile. Just… tell somebody something you’re not completely certain you want them to know.”

 

“God! That’s the second time I’ve received that advice.” You chuckled wryly, wringing your hands together.

 

“Well, you know I give great advice.” She bumped your shoulder with yours. “You ready for that drink now?”

 

You smiled warmly at her. “Sure. Let me go get my coat.”

* * *

 

“Forgive me Dr. Y/L/N, I’m a little confused as to why the Director of the FBI would send you to speak to the Senator instead of coming himself,” stated Ken Thompson, one of the suspects, as he, Senator Bethlehem, and you walked into the Senate building.

 

“Probably because I’m the one who found out that Cleo Eller was pregnant,” you answered smugly.

 

“You can tell the girl was pregnant from her skeleton?” Senator Bethlehem asked in astonishment.

 

“We found fetal bones,” you explained. “The only question now, Senator, is which one of you is the father.” You pointed at both men. “Are you willing to submit to a DNA test?”

 

“You know what,” Thompson said to Senator Bethlehem. “Given the sensitivity, don’t say anything on the subject without your attorney present. That’s my advice.”

 

“Advice I intend to take,” the senator said, looking at you before turning to his aide. “Ken, we have a vote to get to,” he said, effectively blowing you off as he tossed a piece of gum that he was chewing in the trash can. Ken and Bethlehem walked side by side toward the other building.

 

Thinking quickly, you bolted over to the trash can and pulled a pencil from behind your ear. You stabbed the freshly-tossed gum and smiled triumphantly.

 

“Ummm what are you doing?” Senator Bethlehem asked nervously.

 

“Saliva, say from chewing gum, is an excellent source of DNA,” you answered, still looking at the piece of gum.  “I intend to compare it to the DNA in the fetal bones.” You pushed passed him and headed towards the exit.

 

“You need a warrant for that. Ken,” he shouted at you before looking at his assistant. “She needs a warrant.”

 

Thompson walked up to you, grabbing you by the wrist in attempts to take the gum. However, thinking quickly, you turned and swiftly elbowed him in the stomach causing him to drop to the floor.

 

You turned your back to the exit and walked backwards, smirking as the senator ran over to help his aide back up. “If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch.”

* * *

 

“When you work for the FBI, Dr.Y/L/N, you’re a Federal Agent, government property, I own you.” Director Fury stood over you with his arms crossed, looking extremely pissed off at you and Steve but mostly you.

 

“I’m not certain that’s accurate sir,” you replied.

 

“Well how’s this for accurate?” Fury spat.  “I could place you under arrest on a Federal charge right now for uttering threats against a United States Senator.”

 

“What…” You started to freak out but you felt Steve take you by the hand.

 

“Bones…” He whispered.

 

Fury then turned to your partner. “I own her, but she was your responsibility.”

 

“Yes sir,” Steve replied softly, not looking up at his superior.

 

You rolled your eyes at the director’s comment. “I’m not your property. Sir.”

 

Director Fury leaned over his desk and pressed a button the intercom. “Send in Special Agent Hodge,” he commanded his secretary. “I warned you about taking squints out to the field but you vouched for her, said she wouldn’t screw up.” He pointed his finger at Steve.

 

“Yes sir. That’s correct,” Steve answered softly.

 

“She accosted a Senator, assaulted his aide; that counts as screwing things up.” Fury raised his voice at your partner.

 

“No! No!” you stood up from your chair and got into the director’s face. “Rogers didn’t know I was going to see the Senator. I just wanted to get a sample of his DNA..”

 

“Exactly,” Director Fury said, looking directly at Steve.

 

“Not helping Bones,” Steve said, getting up from his chair and pulling you back.

 

Suddenly, the door opened and a tall man with slicked back sandy brown hair walked in, “You asked to see me sir?”

 

“Tomorrow morning I’m announcing the formation of a special unit to investigate the murder of Cleo Eller,” Fury announced to Agent Hodge, then looked back at your partner. “At which time your investigation will be officially terminated. You will not head the new unit.”

 

“Congratulations, Gilmore.” Steve gritted his teeth, not looking at Agent Hodge, obviously not hiding his disdain.

 

“Hey, no hard feelings, Steve,” Hodge said smugly, to which both you and Steve rolled your eyes.

 

“Right,” Steve mumbled.

 

“I need the complete case files in the morning,”  Hodge ordered.

 

“Of course, they’ll be ready.” Rogers smiled tightly.

 

“Thank you, Agent Hodge,” Director Fury called out as Hodge left the office and closed the door behind him.

 

Steve got up from his chair and headed towards the door before stopping. “ At least Dr. Y/L/N found out that Senator Bethlehem was having sex with Cleo, he said simply.

 

“I did?” You asked in confusion.

 

“Report said there wasn’t enough DNA in the fetal bones to determine paternity,” Director Fury jumped in with the same amount of confusion as you.

 

Steve turned towards you and the director, a cocky smirk across his face. “Senator Bethlehem didn’t want Dr. Y/L/N to take that gum, he’s hiding something.”

 

“He didn’t know there wasn’t enough DNA.” You said, finally catching on to what Steve was referring to.

 

“I suggest you ummm, go back to your lab, Dr. Y/L/N, and get used to being there,” The director said before ushering you both out of his office.

 

“Come on Bones…” Steve said softly as he placed his hand on the small of your back, then stopped in his tracks. “You okay?” he asked you in concern.

 

“Don’t be nice to me after I got you in trouble,” you answered, pushing him away.

 

Steve placed a warm hand on your shoulder, giving you a weak smile. “Your heart was in the right place, doll.”

 

“No, I’m not a heart person, you’re a heart person,” you brushed him off. “I’m a brain person. You vouched for me and I let you down.”

* * *

 

“This is a rough composite but, you get the idea,” Wanda said as she pulled a holographic simulation of the victim getting hit in the head with a hammer.

 

“Skull trauma was not the cause of death,” you pointed out to your best friend. “Cleo was stabbed first. She was stabbed 5 to 8 times with a military issued [Kabar](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2Furl%3Fsa%3Di%26rct%3Dj%26q%3D%26esrc%3Ds%26source%3Dimages%26cd%3D%26cad%3Drja%26uact%3D8%26ved%3D0ahUKEwjcy-Xbv6XTAhWGLSYKHcvKCP0QjRwIBw%26url%3Dhttps%253A%252F%252Fwww.pinterest.com%252Fkpocintela%252Fka-bar-knives%252F%26psig%3DAFQjCNEQ6DFLQuxjzfBIq35N9CVoB5UnCQ%26ust%3D1492212059846592&t=MDM2NmVjMGY3N2Y0NWFhNTY0NTVjYzM1YWUxNDhlNjkyMGE2ZGY3MSx3blQwQzViMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AtiFwD05xg5xNgJGGmMpYNQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fnomadstevergxrs.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159589644680%2Fthe-girl-in-the-pond-pt-3-bones-marvel-au&m=1) knife.”

 

“And I just completed this rendering,” Wanda announced as she finished adding the finishing touches to the simulation. “The defensive wounds to the bones of her hands suggest that it wasn’t until the third or the fourth penetration that….”

 

“That’s likely the fatal stab right there,” you interrupted Wanda pointing at the stab wound that connected to the victim’s chest.

 

“..that Cleo stopped fighting back,” Wanda said softly, finishing her sentence.

 

“I believe that the distinctive damage to her distal phalanges,” you said to Wanda, who gave you a confused look. 

“The tips of her finger bones,” you clarified.

 

“Ah,” she replied.

 

“Anywho, the damage to the tips of her finger bones was caused by the murderer using a knife to remove her finger pads.” You examined the fingertips, then put them back down on the table. “Cranial fragmentation suggests a 20 pound hammer striking four to five times while the victim’s head rested on a cement floor containing traces of diatomaceous earth, that’s the best explanation for the particulates found in her skull. This was not a crime of passion.”

 

“Cleo never saw the first stab coming, it didn’t arise out of an argument. Why smash Cleo’s face, why whittle away her fingertips, remove her clothing and her jewelry?” Wanda asked.

 

“The murderer put more effort into hiding the victim’s identity than he did into the murder itself,” you answered back, still looking at the simulation that was playing all over again.

 

“In case Cleo was identified, the murderer planted evidence. The little book that Y/L/N got from the stalker matches the cellulose I found in Cleo’s hand,” Tony said as he and Peter walked into the lab.

 

“Military cemetery, military knife implicate her own father. More misdirection, Peter added.

 

“Sound like any conniving, son-of-a-bitch senators you know?” Tony asked.

 

“You expect me to declare war on a United States Senator based on your little holographic crystal ball.” Steve overheard Stark’s comment and stormed over to the group.

 

“It’s not magic. It’s a logical recreation of events based on evidence.” You stood up to your partner, defending Wanda’s work.

 

“No more valid than my gut,” Steve answered, placing his hand on his hips.

 

“A good hypothesis withstands testing. That’s what makes it a good hypothesis,”  Peter added.

 

“It’s not a hypothesis. You have a dead girl and a United States Senator. This is exactly why squints belong in the lab. You guys don’t know anything the real world,” Steve argued back.

 

You had enough of Steve’s bullshit. “Come on, we’re done here,” you told your colleagues as you pushed past Steve.

 

He watched as you walked behind Stark and Parker out of Wanda’s office. “Wow. Touchy…” Steve said to Wanda.

 

“You must know about her family,” Wanda said, putting her tablet down. “Both parents vanishing when she was fifteen? Probably counts as the real world.”

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I know the story, read the file, cops never found out anything.”

 

“Yeah. Y/L/N figures that if maybe somebody like her had been there…”

 

He let out a sigh. “For someone who hate psychology, she sure has a lot of it.”

* * *

 

You pointed your pistol and fired a round into the target. You needed to take your frustration out on something, so you figured,  _why not go to the gun range?_

You took off your noise canceling headphones. “Fucking Rogers and his gut feeling,” you growled as you pulled out the gun’s clip and slipped on a full one.

 

“Thought I’d find you here,” you heard Steve say as he entered the gun range. “You know, you being a good shot and doing martial arts, it’s all your way of dealing. Who knows better than you how fragile life can be?” He asked, walking into the booth you were in.

 

“Maybe an Army Ranger sniper who became an FBI homicide investigator?” you answered slyly. “Isn’t that right… Captain Rogers?”

 

He gave you a little smirk. “Ah, you looked me up, huh?” he asked in surprise. “Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at the gun that laid on the table.

 

“Be my guest,” you replied, picking up the weapon and handing it over to him.

 

He thanked you as he took the gun from your hands and pointed it at the target, firing two bullets, completely missing the bullseye.

 

“Were you any good at being a sniper?” you snickered.

 

He put the gun back down on the table and turned to you. “You know doll, A sniper gets to know a little something about killers. Senator Bethlehem, he’s no killer.”

 

“Oh, and Oliver Laurier is?” You crossed your arms at him.

He backed you into the wall of the booth and leaned in, his face dangerously close to yours. “The way I read Laurier, he’s unhinged. That makes him dangerous.”

 

“That’d be your gut telling you that, correct?” You asked, poking him in the stomach.

 

“You know, homicides, they’re not solved by scientists,” he answered, voice dropping an octave before giving you a smirk. “They’re solved by guys like me asking a thousand questions a thousand times, catching people telling lies every time. You’re great at what you do, Y/L/N, but you don’t solve murders. Cops do.”

 

“Cleo Eller was killed on a cement floor sprinkled with diatomaceous earth. Traces of her blood will still be in that cement,” you reiterated.  “One of us is wrong, maybe both of us. But if Bethlehem wasn’t a Senator, you’d be right there in his basement looking for that  floor,” You said, watching the arrogant smirk drop from his face. “You’re afraid of him. Your hypothesis is that squints don’t solve murders and cops do. Prove it. Be a cop.”

 

You took off your protective goggles and gave him a smirk, walked away,and left him alone.

* * *

**  
**You stepped out of the elevator on the 23rd floor and walked up to the receptionist’s desk. **  
**

 

“Hi, can you point me in the direction of Agent Rogers office please?” you asked politely.

 

“Certainly,” the receptionist answered with a smile. “He’s right over there.” She pointed to the corner office on the far right side of the floor.

 

“Thank you ma’am,” you answered curtly before walking over to Roger’s office.

You rapped your knuckles on his door, then turned on the door knob letting yourself in. You found your partner leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, watching something on the small television.

 

“Hey, I uh brought you some coffee,” you said as you placed the small cup on the desk by the name tag.

 

Steve ran his hand down his face. “They look pretty happy, don’t they,” he said pointing at the television with a small remote, pausing the video of the victim and her parents. “Otherwise they wouldn’t turn on the camera I guess.”

“Peter said you wanted to see me?” you asked, taking a seat opposite your partner.

“Yeah,” he answered taking his feet of the desk and planting them on the floor. “That something you don’t like to talk about? Families?” He took off the lid of his coffee cup and took a sip. “Y/N, partners they… share things, builds trust.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Since when are we partners?” you asked.

“I apologize for the assumption,” he said softly, holding his hand out with a piece of paper.

You took the paper and examined it. “You got a warrant to search Bethlehem’s place?” you asked in surprise.

“You were right,” Steve admitted, getting up from his desk. “If Bethlehem wasn’t a Senator, I’d be in that basement, looking for that floor. But you’re wrong about one thing. I was never afraid of that guy and I’m not doing this because you’re a genius. I’m doing this for Cleo.”

* * *

 

You stood outside of the senator’s home amid the crowd of the media frenzy that gathered outside of the gates, while Steve and other agents entered the home in hopes to find what they were searching for.

 

“The warrant says they’re searching for blood traces, a sledgehammer, and diatomaceous earth,” You overheard Ken Thompson said to Senator Bethlehem.

 

“What the hell is that?” Asked the senator in confusion.

 

You watched as Thompson stomped over to your direction, fuming in anger. “You’re making a big mistake.”

 

You ignored Thompson and let out a small sigh of relief as FBI agents shuffled out of the senator’s home, one of them coming out with a sledgehammer inside of an evidence bag.

 

“I don’t recognize that, that is not mine. That is not mine!” The senator shouted in panic.

 

You looked over and saw Steve walking closer to you, lips set in a thin line, face grim.

“At least we got the hammer,” you said,, hoping that the evidence found in the senator’s home would be enough.

 

He ran his hand down his mouth. “Yeah but that’s all we got.”

 

“The cement floor in the basement?” You asked.

 

He shook his head in dismay. “Yeah, no blood, diatomaceous earth.” Steve clenched his fists in anger. “We needed a trifecta Bones. Physical evidence, murder weapon, crime scene.”

* * *

 

Sitting in the lounge along with your colleagues, you drank some vodka that Tony made out of a beaker and completely zoned out.

 

“They won’t even arrest him?” Peter asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, if that’s the hammer used on Cleo Eller, he’ll get arrested,” Stark said with a smile as he poured more alcohol into his beaker, raising it in the air once it was full. “A toast to getting this bastard.”

 

“The hammer’s not enough,” you said, getting up from your chair. “He’s gonna get away with it. And maybe Rogers is right, maybe outside the lab I’m useless.”

 

“Well then,” Tony said jokingly, holding up a small red book. “Let’s take guidance from the lives of the Saints.”

 

“Albertus Magnus, Patron Saint of Scientists,” Wanda mumbled to herself as she read a page of the book Tony had in his hand.

 

“But I thought Magnus was the Patron Saint of fishmongers?” Peter knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

 

“Two separate entities. Albertus Magnus was a 13th century philosopher, the fish monger saint was a…” Stark tried to explain before being interrupted by you.

 

“Fish!” Everyone looked at you with a confused look. “You mentioned before that diatomaceous earth could be used as a filtering agent. Right stark?”

 

“Umm yeah, for swimming pools, water filters…”

 

“Or tropical fish. Oliver Laurier said that Ken Thompson kept fish,” You interrupted Tony. You jumped up from your seat and grabbed your coat.

 

“What’s your hurry?” Wanda asked, running after you.

 

You turned back to face Wanda.  “Thompson read the warrant, he knows we’re looking for diatomaceous earth. Get in touch with Rogers, tell him where I’m going, okay?” You added before sprinting out of the exit.

* * *

 

You violently parked your car on the curb and jumped out, sprinting down the sidewalk and hopped over Ken Thompson’s fence. You ran up the steps in the suspect’s backyard and looked through one of the window panels. There, you saw Thompson holding a jerry can and pouring gasoline all over the floor.

“Stop!” You shouted, banging on the panels. “You can’t destroy evidence!”

Thinking quickly, you grabbed the nearest object, which turned out to be a potted plant, and smashed the bottom left window panel, sticking your hand in and turning the knob; successfully breaking into the suspect’s house.

“Stop!” You shouted again, finally catching Thompson’s attention.

He looked up at you and tilted his head. “This is a private residence, I don’t suppose you have a warrant?” He asked coldly.

“I’m working with the FBI, asshat,” you corrected Thompson.  “If I have reasonable suspicion of a crime being committed, I don’t need a warrant.”

“What crime?” He asked, getting closer to you.

“How about, destruction of evidence pertinent to a Federal investigation,” you growled.

“I’m just cleaning up.” He managed to keep his cool as he feigned innocence. “Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

You looked down at the floor, then looked back at him with confidence. “This linoleum looks fairly new,” you noticed. “What’s underneath, cement? The same cement that was embedded in Cleo’s skull when you bashed her head in.” You accused.

Thompson shook his head. “You might want to get out of here,” he warned.

You shook your head in defiance. “No can do, sweetheart. I can’t let you destroy evidence.”

He laughed menacingly at you and a chill ran up your spine. Your brain told you to do what he says and run, but your body remained planted on the floor.

“How are you going to stop me?” He asked, taking a few more steps towards you as you backed away.

“I’ll stop you,” you answered, making him laugh harder at your statement.

“Oh yeah? Not before I burn this place down with you in it,” was the last thing he said before pulling a zippo lighter from his pocket.

Thinking quickly, you pulled a pistol from the waistband of your jeans, pulled back on the hammer, and squeezed the trigger, shooting Thompson in the leg, just below the knee.

He cried out in pain as he dropped the lighter and collapsed on the floor.

You ran over and placed your foot on the wound, applying pressure while simultaneously hurting him and pointing your pistol at his head. “Don’t move,” you warned him coldly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t get it, it wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t passion, Cleo wouldn’t get rid of your boss’s baby and so you got rid of her. What kind of psychology is that?” You asked trying to make sense of the motive. “What kind of person are you?” 

* * *

 

Everyone gathered around in silence, watching Cleo Eller’s funeral, mourning the stranger among her friends and family. After the priest finished his sermon, the casket began to lower into the ground. You stepped out of the group and walked over to the casket. Grabbing a white rose from the bouquet, you examined it for a bit before tossing it into the hole.

 

“Is the FBI going to lay charges against Y/L/N?” Wanda was the first to speak up.

 

“She only shot him in the leg. Once,” Tony justified.

 

Steve shook his head. “She didn’t give him a warning,” he answered, scratching his newly shaven jaw. “She just shot him, with alcohol on her breath.”

 

“It was her first shooting, you can’t expect it to be perfect right out of the gate,” Natasha said, defending you.

 

“How much warning did you give people before you sniped them?” Peter looked at Steve.

 

Rogers clenched his jaw and shot Peter a dirty look before departing from the group.

 

“Bones!” He called out, jogging down the cemetery road you were walking on. He quickly caught up with you and fell into step beside you wearing a smug grin.

 

You looked at him with a chuckle. “What?”

 

“Told you it wasn’t the Senator,” he said arrogantly.

 

“And I told you who it was, so we’re even,” you replied just as smug as he was.

 

You both looked back to the funeral, watching Mr. and Mrs. Eller laying roses on their daughter’s coffin.

 

“You know,” Steve spoke after a long pause. “If it weren’t for you, those people would never have known what happened to their daughter. That’s got to be worse than the truth.”

 

“I know exactly how the Ellers felt about Cleo,” you said softly. You looked away from your partner for a moment, debating against yourself before taking a deep breath, “My parents disappeared when I was fifteen and nobody knows what happened to them.”

 

Even though he already knew your situation, he smiled at the fact that you opened up to him. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

 

“You know, being a sniper… I took, a lot of lives. What I’d like to do before I’m done is try and catch at least that many murderers,” he confessed to you.

 

You laughed. “Please! You don’t think there’s some kind of cosmic balance sheet…” you caught yourself before continuing that sentence and cleared your throat. “I’d like to help you with that.”

 

He gave you a wide smile, perfect white teeth shining at you. “Ehhh…”

 

You giggled and smacked him in the arm, leaning your head on his broad shoulder as you both left the cemetery, “You’re worst you know that?”


	4. The Woman in the Sand Part. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a forensic anthropologist working for the Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C. when you and your team get recruited by the FBI to aid one of their top field agents, Special Agent Steve Rogers. Together, along with your colleagues/friends you put faces on the voiceless and throw the bad guys where they belong.

 

“What do you mean you’ve never played Blackjack?” Rogers asked you as he drove you both down the dirt road. 

Ever since the Cleo Eller fiasco, Director Fury decided to make you Rogers’ permanent partner. Turns out that even though  _“you royally fucked up the investigation by fishing for evidence to pin against Senator Bethlehem_ ” you still managed to catch the actual killer; courtesy of your unorthodox techniques.

 

“I mean that it wasn’t something that I was interested in,” you replied simply, looking out the dust-covered window.

“And what did you expect?” He chuckled, interested in what your idea of coming to Vegas would be.

 

“Well?” he asked, the curiosity getting the best of him. “What were you interested in?”

 

You gave him a small smile and put down the sun visor to cover your eyes. “Same thing I’ve always been interested. Science.”

 

After driving in silence for a few minutes, you decided to make some conversation with your new partner, “So who do they think the body is?”

 

“Federal prosecutor who disappeared five years ago, a day before he was starred at a mob trial,” Steve replied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

 

“Ya know,” you said looking back at him, “when you told me that I would be going to Vegas, this was not what I had in mind.”

 

“And what did you expect?” He chuckled, interested in what your idea of coming to Vegas would be.

 

There wasn’t time to give him a smart ass answer. He rolled the car to a stop just outside  some tents and the pair of you got out of the SUV, climbing up the small hill where you were greeted by agents placing markers around what appeared to be a cadaver buried in the sand.

 

“Five years you say?” you asked Steve, looking at the scene in front of you.  “There’s not much left of him.”

 

“Yup, that’s why they flew you to Sin City, Bones.” Steve chuckled, grabbing a notepad and a pen from a nearby table. “Well, technically speaking, We’re fifteen miles outside Vegas. This is America’s frying pan.”

 

“Yeah, no kidding,” you snarked, wiping away the sweat that was already. “A person can melt before finding a body anywhere near here.”

 

He chuckled. “Once the mob makes a federal prosecutor disappear, they kind of want him staying that way.”

 

“Agent Rogers!” shouted a voice, interrupted your banter. You both turned to find a man wearing a light blue suit and yellow tie walking up to you both. “Agent Rogers” said the man as he jogged over to your partner and shook his hand. “I’m Agent Eric Zhang, we spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Steve as he let go of Agent Zhang’s hand. “This here is Dr. Y/-”

 

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a big fan of your work,” the agent praised as he took hold of your hand and shook it. “Thank you for coming.”

 

“Thank you.” Smiling, you let go of his hand. “What can you tell me about the prosecutor?”

 

“Okay,” started Agent Zhang as he motioned for you and Steve to follow him. “May 20, 2012, Mason Roberts was supposed to deliver a keynote address at University of Las Vegas but he never showed. Found his car 3 blocks from his office, engine still running.”

 

“Wait. No leads until now?” Steve asked in an unsettling tone.

 

“The police don’t mean much without a body.” Agent Zhang shrugged. “Until yesterday, when we get a tip from this call girl working at the Tangiers Hotel.”

 

“Whoa.” Steve stopped making you and the other agent stop as well. “So, I dragged one of the top Forensic Anthropologists across the country on the word of a prostitute?”

 

Immediately, you elbowed your partner in the ribs. “What difference does her profession make?” you chastised Steve.

“Shoo!” you shouted at the vultures running towards them, managing to make them fly away. “Oh no,” you said under your breath as both Steve and Zhang joined behind you.

 

“Hey I’m backing you up here.” Steve winced at the pain he now felt.

 

“You didn’t have to be so judgmental about it Rogers,” you answered back as you both continued to follow Agent Zhang down the dirt road.

 

“Anyway,” Zhang continued, “the body was right where she said it would be, mile marker 15.”

 

You pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from your bag and handed it over to Rogers, crouching down and putting on your own gloves before beginning to examine the remains.

“Confirmed victim is male, late thirties. No clothing, no personal artifacts,” you announced.

 

“This informant of yours, any chance I can talk to her?” Steve asked as he scribbled what you were calling out on paper.

 

“As long as you don’t expect her to talk back,” Zhang answered back. Steve looked at him with a confused look in his bright blue eyes. “She died this morning,” the agent clarified. “Cancer. It was a deathbed confession, but she was still scared as hell.”

 

“Multiple fractures to the skull and upper extremities, caused by something cylindrical, like a pipe or a bat,” you interrupted Steve before he could open his mouth.

 

“Straight out of Capone’s play book,” Steve muttered to himself.

You stood upright. “I’ll know more once I compare dental records but-” you lost your train of thought as you noticed something out of the corner of your eye.

 

“What? Bones-” Steve never got to finish as you sprinted past him and Agent Zhang. They turned around and ran, following you, and watched as three big vultures started their circling descent.

 

“Shoo!” you shouted at the vultures running towards them, managing to make them fly away. “Oh no,” you said under your breath as both Steve and Zhang joined behind you.

 

“Right,” Steve said, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s the sun baked, rotting corpses the vultures are into.”

 

Without saying a word, you grabbed another pair of rubber gloves and headed over to the decaying remains, looking over them gently. “Female, mid-twenties,” you called out. “Similar injuries to the male victim but this is a fresh kill. A week to ten days.”

 

“Popular dumping ground for these guys, eh?” Steve asked.

 

“You don’t mean the same guys, five years later?” Agent Zhang asked, scratching his head.

 

“Well, you know, if they’re not connected it would be one hell of a coincidence,” Steve answered, adjusting his sunglasses.

 

“Well, I’d have to compare them side by side, but from what I see here, whoever buried that victim buried this one, too,” you answered, getting up and taking off the gloves.

 

Zhang knitted his eyebrows in confusion.“So, two deaths for the price of one?”

* * *

 

Looking at an x-ray inside the makeshift lab the Las Vegas division of the FBI provided for you, you confirmed that the first victim was in fact Mason Roberts. “He was bludgeoned to death, presumably with a baseball bat.” You looked up at Steve.

 

Steve nodded and noticed a picture on the bulletin board. He walked towards it, taking a closer look at it. “Is that who I think it is?” he asked Agent Zhang.

 

“Yep. Wilson “Kingpin” Fisk,” Zhang answered, confirming Rogers’ suspicions.  “He is a gaming exec at the Tangiers. He and the other two there - They were Roberts immediate ‘to do’ list when he disappeared.”

 

The sound of an incoming skype call alerted the three of you. Turning on your heel, you hit a button on the keyboard and Natasha’s face popped up on your screen.

 

“Dr. Romanoff,” you acknowledged simply.

 

“Dr. Y/LN,” she greeted you with the same animosity.

 

To say that there was tension between the two of you would be an understatement. Ever since Natasha took over as Director of the Smithsonian Medico-Legal Department, the two of you have been butting heads on how you would conduct investigations on the remains. You believed that evidence would be found in the bones while she thought that more evidence would be stored in the tissue.

 

“Steven,” Dr. Romanoff greeted your partner by his first name, catching him a bit off guard, his cheeks flushed pink, but he caught himself.

 

“Natasha,” he shot back with a smirk.

 

She gave him a sultry grin. “Don’t call me Natasha.”

 

“Don’t call me Steven,” replied your partner with a gleam in his eye.

 

You cleared your throat. “Dr. Romanoff is there a reason you’re calling, or are you here to eye-fuck my partner,” you said bluntly, making Agent Zhang almost choke on the water he was drinking.

 

“Right,” Natasha said, after letting your remark set in. “Are there any specs on the female victim yet?”

 

“Only preliminary. Blows to the cranium, torso, and upper extremities,” you answered coolly.

 

“All similar injuries to Roberts?” She asked. **  
**

 

“Yes, but from the likely result of domestic abuse,” you answered truthfully.

 

“Likely Result?” Steve said in surprise. “Bones there is nothing domestic about a mob hit.”

 

“I beg to differ, Rogers,” you countered, pulling an x-ray of the female victim. “Notice the shape of her injuries,” you pointed at the victim’s ribs.  “The pattern of healing and re-breaking. There’s a long history of assault here, and not from any baseball bat. Plus, I found this embedded in her skull.” You grabbed a pair of prongs to pick up a piece of hard plastic and telecoil.

 

“Is that a hearing aid?” Asked Agent Zhang.

 

Your answer was a soft hum as you set the hearing aid back down on the table. “They’re common with abuse victims. Repeated blows to the head can damage the bones of the inner ear.”

 

“Ah, sorry to butt in,” you heard the thick Sokovian accent of your best friend. You looked over at your computer screen and saw Wanda pop up behind Natasha. “Y/N, I got a name from the serial number. The hearing aid is registered to Wilhelmina Morgan, out of Mount Charleston, Nevada,” she said reading off her tablet.

 

“Oh, that’s not too far from here,” Steve mused.

 

“She goes by the name Billie.” Agent Zhang walked up to the both of you holding a notepad of his own,.“List here’s Billie Morgan, 26 years old, reported missing 2 weeks ago by her husband, Donald.”

 

“Abusive husband covering his tracks,” you quickly deduced.

 

“That’s possible,” Steve replied.  “Okay, he might know how his wife and Roberts ended up here. “He may even know your friends here.” Rogers said to Zhang, pointing at the photo from earlier.

 

“Well, you get on that and I’ll fly these remains back to the Smithsonian,” you said as you quickly packed your bag. As you turned to head out of the tent, there was a large hand grabbing your elbow.

 

“Okay, whoa. We can’t leave,” Steve pleaded.

 

You yanked your arm away from him and shot an eyebrow at him. “We can’t?”

 

“I mean we came for one body and suddenly there’s two,” He began before you immediately rolled your eyes at him.  “Hey look, what if there’s more?”

 

“Just ship both sets of remains. Along with bugs, dirt, the works. If there’s a forensic link to those murders we’ll find it.” You forgot that Nat was still on the call.

 

“Just as long as you keep me in the loop,” you added quickly.

 

You heard Nat mutter something under her breath along the lines of, “As if we could actually keep you out,” making you shut your laptop, ending the call.

 

“Well then,” Steve let out a breath after the intense and yet awkward encounter. “Why don’t we pay Don a visit and break the news.”


	5. The Woman in the Sand Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a forensic anthropologist working for the Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C. when you and your team get recruited by the FBI to aid one of their top field agents, Special Agent Steve Rogers. Together, along with your colleagues/friends you put faces on the voiceless and throw the bad guys where they belong.

 

Steve and you drove down the long stretch of asphalt for a half hour, nothing but cacti and sand whipping past you. You thought back to that Skype call from earlier and that exchange between him and Natasha.

“So…” you began to say, grabbing your partner’s attention, giving you a quizzical expression. “Are you and Nat a thing?”

Confused, he turned to you. “What?”

“What?” you mocked. “You know what I’m talking about Steven,” you snickered after using his first name.

He rolled his eyes at you in annoyance. “Don’t call me Steven.”

“Then don’t call me Bones, you shot back with a snarl.

“Anyways, there’s nothing going on between Nat and I,” he assured.

You laughed in his face. “Yeah, right and I’m Ghandi.”

“You know for a squint, you’re not that smart,” Steve muttered.

“Heads up, Rogers. Victim’s house is up on the right.” You pointed at the trailer park that was on your side, completely changing the subject.

 

“And here I thought she left me,” The victim’s husband, Donald reacted solemnly after Steve told him that his wife’s body was found.

“Now why would she do that, Don?” Steve asked, taking a seat next to you.

“I - I got laid off a couple of months ago.” Donald ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick you happened to assess. “Poor Billie. She hated seeing me sitting around the house all day, depressed.”

“Drinking?” You rose an eyebrow at the husband.

“Punching walls?” Steve added, to the skepticism you both had.

Donald’s eyes quickly averted to his hand, then back at you. “No. I..I just fell of a ladder,” Donald sputtered.

“Breaking a fall like that would fracture distal radius, not proximal phalanges,” you noted aloud, quickly calling out his lie.

“My what?” he asked in confusion.

“She means that the fall would break your wrist,” Steve clarified.  “Not your thumb.”

“Anyways, listen. I got my hands on a police record that says your neighbors heard you screaming at your wife three weeks ago,” Steve mused, pulling the report from his back pocket.

“No. Just arguing. See Billie wanted to help out, she thought she could bring in some money, you know, the exotic kind. I kind of flipped out,” Donald tried to explain to you both.

“And then you broke your thumb against your wife’s face?” you ground out through your teeth.

“No!” Donald got up from where he was sitting.  “Look, I could never hurt Billie. Okay?” He gave you both a look, pleading for you to believe him.

“Then how did she lose her hearing?” You still questioned him, damn sure that he was the reason behind her injury.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders.  “She was a kid playing sports. One to many soccer balls against the head?”

“Oh, please,” you replied, unable to keep from rolling your eyes.

Steve got up as well and pulled out a pair of handcuffs from the waistband of his jeans. “Listen Don, you’re my number one suspect so it would be wise if you’re straight with us,” he warned

“Implants,” Donald shouted, putting his hands out in front of him.

Both you and Steve looked at each other, then back at Donald before Steve spoke up, “Implants?”

* * *

 

After talking to the victim’s husband, you and Steve found out that Donald had taken a loan of 8 thousand dollars from a loan shark to pay for his wife’s breast implants. Needless to say, Don didn’t have the money by the time the loan shark came to collect; it earned Donald a broken thumb.

“Laufeyson,” Steve spoke into the phone as you drove. “Yeah, that’s right. Loki Laufeyson. Send his information to my cell as soon as you can,” Steve ordered before hanging up.

“We got the shark in our system,” Steve said turning towards you.

“Well, proving at least that he exists,” you replied absentmindedly, still looking at the road in front of you.

“Ya know, Don’s story might seem a little off, but just try to keep an open mind,” Steve said cautiously.

You snorted loudly. “An open mind to what? All those soccer balls to the head?”

“I’m just not sold on the whole domestic abuse thing, alright. A scrawny guy like that-” Steve tried to say before you interrupted him.

“Rage has nothing to do with size.”

Steve sighed. “I know that Bones, It’s just…” He took a moment to think about what he was going to say.  “I look into the guy’s eyes and I just didn’t see it.”

“Okay, but what about the implants Donald mentioned?” you asked, foot gently pressing  down on the gas pedal as the traffic light turned green. “if she’d gotten them they would have been a part of her remains.”

“True,” Steve replied. “But, what if she used the money for something else?” He let out a chuckle as he pulled his phone back out, and handed his phone to you with a picture of a man about your age with long raven colored hair and pale skin. “And hopefully that guy will be able to tell us what it was.”

* * *

 

Entering the Tangiers Casino, you were blown away by the amount of people gambling their money away.

You heard Steve take in a deep breath. “Ahhh, I love the sound of winning.” You looked up at your partner and gave him a quizzical expression.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. “Sorry, it just reminds me of my first time in Vegas,” he explained. “Fresh out of the army, I walked into the Desert Inn with 35 bucks in my pocket. Walked out with a cool 10 grand,” he recalled, dropping his smile a moment later. “The next night, I lost everything. Tapped out my ATM trying to get it back.”

You looked towards the end of the casino and found the man you were looking for. At the end of the bar, there sat the man with pale skin and long, flowing, raven colored hair, sipping from his glass of scotch while eyeing everyone there like a predator stalking his potential prey.

“Hey. There’s our loan shark, let’s go!” You almost shouted, taking a hold of Steve’s wrist, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Okay, you stay here. I know how to talk to these guys,” Steve replied, pulling you behind him and giving you a do what I say look.

Not wanting to argue, you conceded. “Fine. What do I do then?” you asked.

“Well you’re a forensic anthropologist, doll. Observe the culture.” He shot you a wink and left you alone.

Steve grabbed a beer bottle from a platter one of the waitresses was holding and chugged it, then ruffled his hair to make it look messy.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Steve said, sitting down in the barstool next to the loan shark. “Don’t I owe you money?”

 

[Originally posted by cedimond](https://tmblr.co/ZKtNqj1w5mE0V)

Irritated at the new arrival, Loki turned in his stool to face the man. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else,” he said, British accent thick on his tongue.

“I don’t think I do.” Steve chuckled. “You see my buddy, Don Morgan, he introduced us. 30. Scrawny guy. Broken thumb.”

“Do I need to call security?” Asked Loki through gritted teeth.

“You know what, pal?” Steve asked, smirking slyly as he yanked his badge out and slapped it onto the bar. “That’s a great idea. And hey, while you’re at it, maybe you can tell me what you did to Don and just maybe how his wife ended up dead.”

Defeated, he spoke, “Look, The guy owed me money. He neglected to pay and he fell of a ladder.” He looked down at his glass, watching as the ice spun in the amber liquid. “Instant karma.”

“Instant karma. That’s going to get you every time, isn’t it?” Steve mused.  “What about his wife, Billie Morgan?” Steve asked, pulling a photo of the victim out of his coat pocket and placed it on the table. “She have instant karma too?”

Loki glanced at the photo quickly. “I didn’t even know he was married.”

“How about the name Mason Roberts?” Steve asked, frustration eating at him. “I’m sure that rings a bell.”

He snorted. “Whispers on the strip is that you finally found him.” Loki downed the rest of his drink. “Congratulations, now leave me alone.”

“If you know more than what you’re saying, I’m gonna find out eventually,” Steve warned.

The loan shark laughed in your partner’s face. “Do I look worried?” The look on Steve’s face, made Loki stop short. “I’m a businessman. What are you harassing me for?”

“Ah, ya know. I don’t like bullies,”Steve said simply as he swiped Loki’s third drink. “Thanks for the drink, pal.”

He turned on his heel and left, walking through the vast amount of people playing coin slot machines until he spotted you on the main floor, smiling from ear to ear, playing blackjack. He chuckled to himself while watching you win hand after hand.

“Nineteen’s a winner,” announced the blackjack dealer as he handed you what amounted to be three thousand dollars in chips.

“Yes!” you celebrated to yourself gathering the chips for yourself. “Come. To. Mama.”

Steve looked past the dealer and noticed two tall and burly pit bosses flanking over to you.

_They think she’s counting cards_ , he thought to himself.

“Hey Bones!” Steve shouted, making his way over to you.

“Oh, hey Rogers,” you answered, taking a sip of your champagne. That’s when you noticed two big and burly men coming toward you.

You spun around in your stool to face them. “Fellas,” you greeted simply.

One of them grabbed you by the elbow. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you t-”

He was quickly cut off by your partner. Steve took hold of your other elbow and swiftly pulled you away from the pit bosses. “We were just about to leave.”

“Come on,” he whispered in your ear, dragging you out of the casino.

* * *

 

Back in D.C, Nat stood over the platform examining the body of Billie Morgan when suddenly Tony barged in holding a tray. “Aegialia concinna!”

“Excuse me?” Nat asked looking up from her microscope.

“They’re Scarab Beetles,” Tony corrected himself and placed the beetle under the microscope that connected to the monitor. “They came from the soil around Billie Morgan. These adults feed on putrefied organic matter. Or in this case, Billie. As a result they suffered unusually short life spasms,” he went on to explain.

“From ingesting Billie’s flesh?” Natasha asked, looking at the monitor.

“More likely the powerful glucocorticoid in her system,” he answered. “However, I’ve yet to isolate which one specifically.”

“Be sure to notify Doctor Y/L/N when you do,” Nat ordered. She then turned to Peter as he walked up the steps and onto the platform.

“Mr. Parker, any specifics on the bat used to kill Roberts yet?” she gruffly asked.

“Here’s a replica,” Peter said, handing a bat to Natasha. “Louisville Slugger with a 3 inch diameter weighing about 27 ounces.”

“You think the mob would come up with less clichéd ways to whack people,” Tony mused aloud, taking a few steps away from his boss.

“Hang on, there’s something else,” Peter muttered as he grabbed the camera and placed it at the beginning of the spine. “Staining on Roberts’ cranium indicates seepage to the cervical spine.” He pointed the monitor. “So somehow blood from his head, got down to his neck.”

“Vertebra C7,” Natasha said as she looked at the monitor. “Are those cut marks?” She asked, squinting her eyes when she noticed some nicks on the bone.

“His throat got cut?” asked Peter.

“Looks like it,” Tony replied after taking a look for himself. He turned to Natasha and asked,“Did you find a specific cause of death on Billie Morgan yet?”

She grabbed the tablet and tapped on the screen, making the monitor switch from camera to a picture of the victim’s x-rays. “She displays a hemothorax in her left lung,” Natasha answered his question, pointing at the hole in the victim’s lung. “Between pre-existing injuries and the new ones, poor girl never had a chance.”

* * *

 

Sitting out on the balcony with Steve, you listened to Peter and the rest of your colleagues as they talked about the findings on Roberts and Morgan.

“Take a closer look at the stress markers to her sternum, Pete. They strike you as unusual?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer bottle.

“Well, they do seem more the result over repetitive medium impact manual blows than the single high impact from a bat,” Peter answered confidently.

“This husband could really dish it out.” You heard Tony say in the background.

“Maybe she dished it back,” Peter mused. “There are hairline fractures on her knuckles”

Your eyes widened in realization. “Defensive wounds.” You clicked on the home button on your phone, then tapped on the photo app, revealing a picture of Billie Morgan’s x-ray Peter sent you. “Wait a minute,” you said aloud, grabbing Steve’s attention. “Repetitive manual blows.”

“Fractured knuckles,” Steve said, taking a seat next to you.

“The glucocorticoid that killed your bugs, Stark. Could it have been simple cortisone to treat an injury?” You jumped in.

“Yeah. That’s certainly possible,” Tony answered.

“What are you thinking Dr. Y/L/N?” You heard Natasha say on the other end of the call.

You sat on the lounge chair for a moment, relishing in the cool November breeze. “Billie Morgan could have been a boxer.”

“But wouldn’t boxing gloves prevent injuries like these?” Rogers asked, pointing at the x-ray.

“Unless she wasn’t wearing gloves,” Tony mentioned.

“What kind of boxer does that?” You heard Wanda join in on the call.

“Ultimate fighters,” Both you and Tony said in unison.

“Ultimate fighters. Ah, you’re into that crap too?” Steve smirked in amusement as your cheeks flushed crimson.

“Dude, it’s barbaric, When it shows up on cable I can’t turn it off.” You could hear the excitement in Tony’s voice.

“And it’s actually legal?” Natasha asked with skepticism in her tone of voice.

“Completely sanctioned, Peter assured her. “They do wear some protective gear, which would fly in the face of our girl’s injuries, though.”

“That is, unless it was underground,” you breathed.

“Underground where?” Asked Steve in bewilderment.

“Come on. Haven’t you’ve never seen Fight Club?” you answered his question with a question of you own.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head no.

“Illegal, no hold barred, slugfest. Modern day Panem et Circenses,” you mused in excitement.  “But generally there’s no free bread.”

You thanked your team for the new information and hung up, turning to Steve who had a smug look on his face.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked.

“Don Morgan didn’t beat his wife,” he answered with triumph in his voice.

“Oh my god.” You let out a sigh. “Don’t start.”

“Got to say doll, I told you so.”

“Whatever,” you snarked, rolling your eyes at him. “Come on.” You got up from your seat and took Steve by the hand.

“Whoa where are we going?” He asked, stopping you from pulling him.

“God you’re clueless aren’t you?” you giggled at him. He made a face and you rolled your eyes at him. “Get your mind out of the gutter Rogers. We’re gonna go see Fight Club. That’s all.”

* * *

 

The next day you and Steve headed back to the victim’s home to question the victim’s husband only to find out that Billie Morgan was boxing illegally behind his back. Now you were sitting across your partner at the food court in the hotel you were both staying at, picking at your food.

“You okay Bones?” He asked, watching you intently.

“Yeah. Just thinking, you answered softly, your eyes drawn to the street.

“What’s on your mind doll?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Why would anyone fight illegally in the first place?” You ran your hand through your long Y/H/C hair.

“There’s limited options. Not everybody can be Floyd Mayweather or Ronda Rousey,” Steve replied, successfully stealing a fry off your plate.

Suddenly you heard your phone vibrating against the table. Quickly, you tapped on the green button, then tapped on the speaker. “What’s up Stank?” you greeted to Tony to which Steve snorted.

“Fedex guy says my name wrong one time, and you and Wanda will never let me live it down.” You could practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

“Anyways, have you found anything yet?” you asked, staring down at Steve as he went to steal another french fry from your plate.

“Right, I found something in the particulates from Billie’s shoes,” he answered. “Traces of hexavalent chromium. It’s a chemical used in high end automotive shops, specializing in chroming. Mechanics who use them have to file reports for the EPA.”

You slapped Rogers’ hand. “Ow! What?” He asked, grabbing his hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” Tony asked.

“I’m sorry, and Stark, you lost me at hexavalent chromium,” Steve called out.

“Tony can you contact the Environmental Protection Agency?” You asked.

“I’m on it, replied Tony before hanging up.

* * *

 

Later that night, Steve and you drove down the long stretch of highway until you were about a half hour away from Las Vegas to an abandoned auto body shop.

“This was an auto shop?” You asked with disgust laced in your voice.

You got out of the SUV and jogged behind your partner who crouched down and pulled up the security gate.

“EPA, they shut it down months ago for a hazardous waste material. It was the only shop authorized to use that chromium stuff,” Steve said as he handed you a flashlight. “See it anywhere?”

Walking further inside the shop, you shined the flashlight as you looked around for the chemical, but you came up empty-handed. “Could be absorbed into the dust particles on the floor,” you said in conclusion.

Before Steve could come up with a sarcastic remark, you cut him off, “Shut up. I found something.”

You shined your flashlight on the concrete where there was a thick red line. “They painted a ring for the fights,” Steve said to you in surprise.

Thinking quickly, you grabbed your ultraviolet flashlight from your bag and turned it on. “Holy shit,” you gasped at the scene in front of you.

“Blood.” Steve looked around the concrete floor covered with blood spatter. “The whole place is covered in blood.”

* * *

 

Looking at all the blood samples found at the automotive shop, Natasha decided to take a small break and rest her eyes for a bit.

“Nat? You alright?” She heard Tony ask.

She yawned and got up from her desk, stretching her limbs in the process. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“Would that have to do with a certain FBI agent?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Rogers and I are just friends.”

Tony chuckled sarcastically. “That’s not what I heard.”

“Anyways,” Natasha cut him off changing the course of the conversation back to the investigation. “Of the thirty blood samples found at the bodyshops , 6 were A positive; same as Billie Morgan. I’m still waiting on DNA.”

Suddenly Peter joined them both on the platform. “Thirty fighters translates to five two person fights per hour over a three hour period or three fights over five hours, six fights over-”

“We get the idea, Parker. Lots of fights.” Nat interrupted him.

“I ran thermal imaging on Billie’s remaining soft tissue to reconstruct her injuries,” Wanda mused, joining them on the platform. She turned on the monitor and tapped something on her tablet. “This is what she might have looked like after the fight.” She put the picture up on the monitor of a battered and bruised Billie Morgan.

“Just when I get to a place where I can almost stomach seeing maggots eating intestines,” Wanda added in disgust. “How could anybody do this to themselves?”

“Ya know. 900 B.C.- the Greek ruler, Theseus, entertained himself watching two men sit in chairs beat each other to death,” Tony revealed, earning a glare from the rest of the group. “Just saying. It’s nothing new.”

“I can work up force and velocity reading for each blow,” Wanda said before turning towards Peter.  “Pete, can help me ID her opponent from the circumference and diameter of the fist.”

“I’d rather Peter focus on our second weapon for Roberts,” Natasha replied gruffly.

Peter had the group follow him into the office he shared with Tony. “None of these blades are narrow enough.” He walked over to a tray filled with different sets of knives. “It’s as if his vertebra was cut with some sort of razor blade.”

Tony stared at the tray for a moment while the others spoke, What can cause that kind of damage to the victim’s vertebrae? Suddenly it hit him.

“A razor wire,” He said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Luca Brasi. The Godfather? Please, someone buy a DVD player,” He added, beginning to get agitated.

“Oh,” replied Natasha as realization struck her. “You mean a garrotte?”

“Yes!” He pointed at her in excitement. “Yes. A garrotte pulled so tightly around Luca’s- or rather Robert’s neck-”

“-that it sliced through his throat and severed his carotid artery,” Natasha jumped in.

Wanda grabbed her phone and headed out of the Peter and Tony’s office before turning back at the others. “I’ll tell Rogers.”

* * *

 

You decided on taking a small break from the investigation to relax and enjoy the scenery of Las Vegas. Steve mentioned that he had a contact back at the Tangiers Casino, so the pair of you decided to meet back in the hotel room within the hour.

“Welcome to the Cosmopolitan.” You heard a bubbly voice say, grabbing your attention. “Would you like anything to drink?”

You lifted your sunglasses and found a tall woman with blonde hair wearing a purple bikini, holding a tray in her hands. You closed the book you were reading and propped yourself up on your elbows. “What do you recommend?” you asked.

“We have our signature cosmopolitan,” she responded with a wide smile. “They are so good.”

“Then I’ll have a cosmopolitan.” You gave her a smile just as infectious as hers.

“Coming right up!” She wrote the order down on her notepad before finally leaving.

You laid back down on your lounge chair and continued reading  _Fifty Shades of Grey_ , something that Wanda had been begging you to read since the book was released, but you refused. That is until now. “What the hell did Wanda get me into?” you muttered to yourself as you continued reading the book.

It felt a little strange being in the setting you were in now, sitting poolside in a black bikini drinking cosmos and listening to music the hotel’s resident DJ was playing.

Suddenly you felt your phone vibrate on the table next to you. You pressed the green button on the screen to answer. “Y/L/N”

“Bones!” Steve greeted you with that awful nickname that you hated. “I think I got a lead on where Billie would’ve gone for the fight club. I need you to meet me back at the hotel and wear something nice.”

“What? Why?” You asked, confusion etched on your face.

“Just do it, alright?” Steve said before hanging up on you.

You quickly got up from your chair and grabbed your things while muttering how much of a dick your partner was.

* * *

 

“So what’s so important that you couldn’t tell me over the …” You trailed off as you stood in the hotel room you both shared, mouth agape at the sight of Steve shirtless. Jesus you thought to yourself as you stared at the tattoos that covered his toned chest and abs.

“Hey,” Steve replied, knitting his eyebrows in concern. “You okay Bones?”

“Uhm yeah.” You shook your head, trying to push the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. “So you found something on the fight club?”

“Buddy of mine says that there’s an underground fight club. Bare knuckles, no rules,” Steve answered, turning his back to you and grabbing a navy blue tank top, slipping it on.

“Great!” you replied simply as if you weren’t checking your partner out. “Where at?” You asked walking over to your bed and pulling your suitcase from underneath.You pulled out a simple black dress and walked into the bathroom closing it behind you.

“It moves around. Former champion Cornell “Cottonmouth” Stokes sells 800 numbers,” Steve said as he looked at himself in the mirror and brushed his sandy blonde hair back. “You call, you find out the time, the place, code to get in.”

“Okay? So where can we find him?” you asked, slipping on the short sleeved mesh covered dress.

“He owns a gym here on, uh, on Federal,” Steve answered simply. “Ya know, maybe I should talk to Cornell alone.”

“What is it with you and leaving me behind?” You were starting to get pissed at your partner.

“Listen Bones, the rules? They don’t apply here. Okay? The deeper we get I don’t want anyone knowing that we’re FBI,” he told you, his tone authoritative and firm.

You snorted, “Well, that’s easy for me. I’m not.”

He heard the bathroom door open, and spun on his heel to face you. “Hey, what do you think?” you asked with what he could’ve sworn was a hint of nervousness in your voice.

He took a moment to get a good look at the [short sleeve, mesh covered dress ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.neimanmarcus.com%2FMICHAEL-Michael-Kors-Short-Sleeve-Mesh-Combo-Dress-Black%2Fprod198210049%2Fp.prod%3Fecid%3DNMCS__GooglePLA%26utm_medium%3DCSE%26utm_source%3DNMCS__GooglePLA&t=ZTgwMWVhYTNkNzM3MzE0NzA3N2YyNGRhZDBlOGVhYTQzZGNlN2Q5NSwySG4zajRWTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AtiFwD05xg5xNgJGGmMpYNQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fnomadstevergxrs.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161488731115%2Fbones-a-marvel-au&m=1)before cracking a joke at your expense. “I have enough Bibles, thank you, but try next door.”

“Oh come on Rogers!” You complained. “It’s not like I have anything else to wear.”

“See Bones, now that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied with a knowing smirk.

He walked around the other side of the bed, picking up a white shopping bag and placing it on the mattress. “So I got a phone call from Wanda earlier and she knew you were going to bring that hideous dres-”

“Hey!” You cut him off, offended while he put his hands up in defense.

“Her words. Not mine. Anyway,” he rummaged through the bag and pulled out  a short, black cocktail dress along with a pair of [shoes](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.lulus.com%2Fproducts%2Flulus-elsi-black-single-strap-heels%2F117698.html%3Fxs%3Dlu%26ctl%3Dtrue&t=NTBkOGRlODY5NWQ5NDZkOWNmMThkNWZiYTYxMGJlOTE1MGE5OTVmOCwySG4zajRWTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AtiFwD05xg5xNgJGGmMpYNQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fnomadstevergxrs.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161488731115%2Fbones-a-marvel-au&m=1) to match. “She asked me for a favor and well, here we are,” he said, handing you the dress and shoes.

“Do I have to wear this?” You were going to kill Wanda when you got back to D.C.  

“Just humor me Y/N.”

You let out a deep sigh, “Fine.” You grabbed the dress and heels from his hands and stomped away to the bathroom.

“So?” Steve heard you ask after a long pause. “What’s our cover?”

“We’re newlyweds,” Steve announced, grabbing his olive green jacket and throwing it on. “Takin’ Sin City by storm. Ready for action.”

“Really?” You replied with skepticism.

Steve rolled his eyes at the tone of voice you were using on him. “Listen Bones, I know what I’m doing. Okay? I’ve done this before,” he assured you.

“Alright fine,” you replied, swinging the bathroom door open and stepping out to face him. “But we’re engaged.”  

“Yeah yeah sure….” He looked up from a message Natasha sent him and was absolutely floored by how beautiful you looked in the [black wrap dress and heels.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.lulus.com%2Fproducts%2Fcocktail-hour-black-wrap-dress%2F293322.html&t=N2VmZGI4NmQzOTYxN2VlZWRkMWMzYWE0M2UwMzEwMjI5NTAzZmUxOSwySG4zajRWTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AtiFwD05xg5xNgJGGmMpYNQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fnomadstevergxrs.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161488731115%2Fbones-a-marvel-au&m=1)

Your hair was down and in waves, and your makeup simple yet Steve was shocked by how amazing you looked. “Rogers?” you asked in concern. ”You okay?”

He shook his head, shaking the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. “Yeah, let’s go.”

* * *


End file.
